


Got Me Real Good

by GreenRoses



Category: Penelope (2006)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Introspection, New Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRoses/pseuds/GreenRoses
Summary: Penelope and Johnny get to know each other just after her big reveal on Halloween. First date, fluff, and a bit of introspection. Two shot.
Relationships: Johnny Martin/Penelope Wilhern
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Waltz With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tosca1390](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/gifts).



> This is one of my all-time favorite movies. I really had a great time writing this, so I hope you enjoy. There are some additional details in the end notes at the end of the chapter. Shout out to my sister who was a beta for this. She had some really helpful suggestions.

Penelope Wilhern gazed into her vanity and stared fixedly at the small, very ordinary nose in the middle of her face. Still acclimating to the breaking of the Wilhern curse, she rubbed or patted it now and again (to make certain it really had changed), but most of the time she just stared.

In many ways, her life was far quieter after moving out of her parents’ home to a small apartment closer in to the city. But because Mrs. Wilhern could not abide separation from her daughter for very long, Penelope still dined at the Wilhern estate on occasional evenings to calm her anxious mother.

The doctors, not quite sure how to diagnose Mrs. Wilhern’s curious condition, settled on acute laryngitis, then amended to chronic when it became clear that the mysterious disease was not going away any time soon. Penelope felt sorry for her mother and hoped she’d get better, but part of her—and her father, she was sure—welcomed the fresh tranquility.

Her eyes broke away from the mirror to glance at her telephone—a vintage rotary she received for her birthday several years back. Her heart had been fluttering with anticipation all day long. Johnny said he would call at eight o’clock, and at that moment it was seven fifty-eight in the evening. Another two minutes. She blinked slowly, savoring the memory of their encounter a couple nights back, when she paid him an unexpected visit at a Halloween party. He was currently living out of town on a music gig, and in the short time they spent together that night, she remembered to pass him a little note with her phone number written on it, and he promised he’d call at promptly eight “in two days.”

She eyed the vanity again with moist eyes, their first kiss seared into her memory. Penelope had “dated” countless men from behind her mirrored barricade—posh, polite, educated men who donated hundreds of thousands to charity every year, helped the poor and downtrodden, and lived otherwise benevolent lives. Yet every single one of these sophisticated men had been repulsed by the thought of taking a certain pig-faced girl as a wife. It was Johnny who had initiated the kiss when he wrenched her to him unexpectedly, and as far as he’d known, Penelope was yet under the curse.

It was for that reason her spirit surged at the very thought of him.

Penelope was nearly startled out of her chair when the phone rang at eight o’clock sharp. Heart beating wildly, she was certain he would hear the grin in her voice when she greeted him by name.

“Penelope.”

There was mirth in his voice, and it was smooth as velvet. She just knew her cheeks would hurt by the end of the call.

She asked him about his trip, what the job was like, and all the normal questions a love-struck girl would ask a romantic interest. He answered them all with excitement and fervor, so that when she glanced at her vanity once again, she forgot all about her nose and got lost in his voice.

“What about you, Penelope? I can’t go on about myself all night! I want to hear about all the fun you had today. How’s the teaching going?”

Penelope was not used to a man taking such an interest in her life. She still struggled revealing the parts of herself only her family, Jake, and on occasion, Wanda had known. But it was so easy talking to Johnny. They flirted and bantered and told each other funny stories until midnight, and it would have gone on longer, but Penelope insisted they end the call as Johnny had to be up early the following morning.

“Wait a sec, Penelope. Before we hang up.”

She loved hearing him say her name. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking. I’m going to be working weekends for a while, but I have Monday and Tuesday off next week, and I really want to see you. How about I drive down on Monday? I know it’s a school night, but I’d love to take you to dinner if you’re free. I can even meet you at your school.”

Penelope fidgeted with the beige telephone cord coiled around her fingers. “But doesn’t it take five hours to travel here from where you live?”

“Penelope, I really want to see you.”

Heat chased across Penelope’s face. He was not hiding the longing in his voice.

“I really want to see you, too, Johnny.”

“What time are you off on Monday?”

She hesitated. “I, uh…”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to impose. Is it too soon?”

“No, it’s not that. I want to see you. I just…I promised my parents I’d be with them for dinner on Monday. I don’t on most nights, but my mom is still a little sensitive since—” An idea struck. “Wait, why don’t you join us?”

The line was silent for several moments before he answered. “I’d love to, Penelope.” He chuckled. “I have to warn you, though. I don’t think your mother likes me very much.”

Penelope also chuckled. “Well, my mom’s a little less…talkative these days. I think you’ll be alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand when you get here.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you when school gets out. Listen, I had a really great time talking to you tonight.” He paused. “It’s been a long time for me, Penelope.”

The timbre of his voice was tender, sweet, seeding new warmth within her. Something strange was gathering in her belly, compelling her to offer an earnest return. “It’s been never for me, Johnny. This is all new for me.”

The line was silent again. Finally, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Same time?”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better be. I could talk to you all night, Penelope. So how about we both hang up on the count of three?”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“Alright. One, two, three.”

“Goodnight, Johnny,” she said to him softly.

“Goodnight, Penelope.”

She hung up the phone with a gentle _click_ and threw herself on her bed, euphoric and beaming. Her cheeks did indeed hurt. At twenty-five, Penelope Wilhern had just ended her first phone call “from a boy,” but she was far too elated to be embarrassed.

It was everything she dreamed it would be, and more.

_//_\\\\_

Monday came, Johnny came, and with ample flittering in her stomach, Penelope’s first date with Johnny began. Much later, Penelope learned that meeting the parents—especially on a first date—wasn’t usually something a girl should spring up so early in a courtship, but Johnny was a good-humored man.

As Penelope packed her things, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he told corny jokes to some of her lingering students. She adored watching their interactions, seeing their little faces light up as he teased them.

When the classroom emptied out, Penelope and Johnny took a turn about the room as she gibbered on about her favorite educational knickknacks. Unable to help herself, she fell into a modest horticulture lesson from a subset of flash cards. Johnny sat as comfortably as he could manage among the miniature desks. She was a little surprised at how intently he was engaged in the lesson.

She selected a card with a picture of a delicate white blossom and gave him a generous grin. “And this is another one of my favorites, _ipomoea alba,_ also called a moonflower _._ They’re really special because they only bloom at night. The petals unfurl under moonlight, and at dawn they close back into a bud!”

Johnny pinned her with a steady stare. “Penelope, If I had a teacher like you when I was a kid, I would have paid a lot more attention in school.”

Penelope blushed to her roots.

He wore a haughty smirk that both irked and delighted her. “It’s true.”

After several failed attempts to continue the lesson amid Johnny’s playful quips and wicked smiles, Penelope’s stomach was on its way to a growling fit. She grabbed her things, locked the classroom door, and Johnny followed her out to her parents’ home.

After the usual awkward greetings and some rudimentary sign language from Mrs. Wilhern, the family treated Johnny to a full tour of the house. He seemed particularly entranced by the concert grand Steinway centered in the sitting room and stopped to trill out a few notes before moving on. They all meandered back to the dining room after the tour, and dinner was served at promptly six thirty.

“So, Johnny, tell us a little bit more about what you do,” Mr. Wilhern asked after swallowing a forkful of roast beef.

“Well, right now I have a music gig in Peoria that’s been going pretty well so far. The tips have been really good.”

Though Mrs. Wilhern was mute, disapproval oozed from the pinched lines marking her face. Guiltily, Penelope was glad of her mother’s involuntary silence. Indeed, it was a refreshing change to see her father assume a far more participative role in basic customs like hosting guests.

“Oh? So you’re a _professional_ musician? What do you play?”

Penelope growled after Johnny’s immediate reply. “You should ask how long he made me wait for that answer.”

The corner of Johnny’s mouth rose. “Yeah, the venue I play for, their pianist bailed on them at the last minute. I had a friend that knew I was looking for a job outside the city, so I really lucked out with this gig.”

“Where do you play?” asked Mr. Wilhern.

Johnny studied the wine glass in his hand, swirling the rosy liquid. “At The Matterhorn.”

“The _Matterhorn_?” Penelope yelped. “That place is supposed to be topnotch. My parents have seen some amazing musicians perform there. They buy me CDs whenever they go. You didn’t tell me that’s where you worked.”

“It’s just at the restaurant inside the venue,” Johnny humbly reassured. “Not on their main stage. I’m just the warm-up act for the main show.” He raised the corner of his mouth again and gave Penelope a wink.

“That’s still pretty impressive. We’ve eaten dinner there, too,” her father said. “The restaurant entertainment was quite good, from what I remember. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to hear you play the Steinway after dinner.”  
  


“Oh, please do!” Penelope cried, clapping her hands.

Johnny shot Penelope a soft look. “For you? Anything.”

They finished dinner and dessert, and everyone, including Mrs. Wilhern, headed to the grand piano to listen to Johnny play. Her parents sat back on two plush armchairs and sipped wine while Penelope stood beside them. Johnny positioned himself at the center of the piano bench and gave his fingers a thorough stretch.

Johnny turned his head to give Penelope a broad grin before commencing. He took a deep breath and said, “First, something a little fun,” and began.

Penelope sucked in a quick breath within seconds of Johnny’s fingers hitting the keys. He played a rapid boogie woogie, as fast as any she’d ever heard. She glanced at her parents; their eyes were like saucers. It was not long before Penelope moved like a magnet towards the outpouring springing from Johnny’s hands. His fingers flittered across the ivory as soft as a butterfly, contrasting the resonant harmonies gushing from the keys. Penelope drew a hand to her chest in awe, fisting at the fabric of her shirt.

Johnny suddenly turned to her and wagged his eyebrows in a playful beat along with the music, and she could not help but belt out a laugh. She felt so silly having tried to teach him the chords to “You Are My Sunshine” in the annex! The sneaky rascal had feigned his ineptitude well. It was no wonder he had landed his piano job, though now she was even more curious about what led him to throw away a life of music for gambling pursuits.

They listened for several minutes, then Johnny finished the song with a flair, sagging his shoulders upon completion. Penelope and her parents—yes, even her mother—gave him a standing ovation.

“You didn’t tell me you could play like that!”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I asked you if you played piano!”

Johnny’s eyes twinkled. “Alright, alright, you got me.”

“That was phenomenal,” said Mr. Wilhern, raising his glass. We’re going to have to make a trip out to The Matterhorn soon to see you play.

“It would be an honor, sir.”

“Play another?” Penelope asked.

Another broad grin, and Johnny began a blues waltz. As with the last piece, his fingers ghosted across the keys, the melody lazing like a lullaby beneath his deft hands. She sat by his side near the bench and closed her eyes as he played, thoroughly taken in with each solemn note.

At the end of his performance, Penelope made eyes at him. “One more? Please? And then I’ll leave you alone.”  
  


“Coming from another pianist, I’ll take that as the highest compliment.” But there was mischief in his smile when he said, “How about it’s your turn now?”

“Oh, no,” Penelope demurred, shaking her head. “I’m not terrible, but I’m nowhere near that good.”

“Penelope, don’t be modest. You can hold your own,” said her father.

Mrs. Wilhern nodded in agreement, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile made its way across her face.

Johnny speedily stood up and gestured at the piano. “Well, I guess that settles it.”

Penelope gave her parents a look, then rolled her eyes and turned up the cushion of the piano bench to retrieve some music.

“Don’t laugh,” she told him. “I can’t play all my favorite songs by memory.”

“Neither can I,” Johnny said seriously. “Those weren’t my favorites.”

“Oh, be quiet,” she mumbled.

After some careful deliberation with herself, Penelope also chose a waltz—a more classical Russian tune—and set the music on the stand. It was special to her because it was the first piece she learned after moving out of her parents’ home. She dared not look at Johnny while she played for fear of stumbling, but after moving past the initial nervousness, she fell into the music with ease. At the coda, Johnny and her parents gave her a hearty round of applause.

Her mother looked genial, and her father said, “It’s been a while since you’ve played something new. Excellent, as usual.”

When Penelope’s wide, anxious eyes met Johnny’s, the smile had vanished from his face.

“Penelope, that was beautiful.”

Warm blood raced across her cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you.”

The evening progressed with Mr. Wilhern and Johnny discussing the young man’s music experience, with Mrs. Wilhern’s sharp eyes (and ears) ever observant at their dialogue. Penelope listened in quiet fascination. Johnny had previously confided to her that he used to spend his days as a professional musician and wrote a lot of songs. He’d apparently written enough songs to span several albums and was coming up in his career with a regional jazz ensemble up until a few years ago.

“Life happens, and I had to take a break for a while,” he explained, eyes cast to the ground. “But, I’m excited to be back in the swing of things. The band I used to travel with, Heat Pursuit, is doing really well now, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to get in with another band someday.”

At about nine o’clock, it was time for Johnny to take his leave. Penelope retrieved both their coats and casually remarked that she’d be leaving, too. Johnny gave her a bewildered look, his eyes flashing to her parents, and Penelope giggled when she realized the implication of her words.

“Johnny, I moved out after I got the teaching job, so I’ll walk out with you. Tonight was just dinner night with my parents. Sorry, I thought I mentioned that.”

Johnny straightened his posture and studied her face with admiration in his eyes. “Good for you, Penelope.” As an afterthought, he glanced at her parents and said, “No disrespect.”

“None taken,” said her father, but Mrs. Wilhern’s frosty smile was a little too bright. 

Penelope hugged her parents goodbye, and Johnny bid his polite adieus. A bitter breeze greeted them as they strolled outside together, the chill in the air extracting swirling little mists from their lips as they chatted. When they reached Penelope’s car, she faced him, longing for a kiss, but Johnny’s eyes were elsewhere. Penelope followed his amused gaze to a window on the third floor of her parents’ home, and she was annoyed to find a silhouette uncannily shaped like her mother standing beyond the frame, watching them.

Johnny chuckled, meeting Penelope’s eyes under furrowed brows. “With all due respect, Penelope, your mom has a smile that can freeze seawater.”

Penelope threw her head back and laughed harder than she could remember.

Johnny jerked his head to the side. “Wanna take a walk?”

She nodded, accepting his arm when he offered it.

Towering streetlamps speckled with frost spilled faint bluish light over them as they rounded the block. Penelope didn’t expect a long walk with the weather being what it was, but she was excited to be alone with him again. Just before Penelope’s house was visible again, Johnny halted and gently pulled her close to him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all week,” he murmured.

His lips tasted of dessert wine—sweet and velvety. Penelope was not used to the firmness of a man’s hands at her waist, the sensation of a man’s fingers running through her hair, or the warm silk of a man’s mouth teasing the base of her neck. His pace was much slower than on Halloween, almost as though he was savoring her. He whispered her name, but she barely understood what he was mumbling. Something about piano, then his mouth kept moving. Penelope was not accustomed to kisses like his.

“Johnny, I’m really new at this,” she whispered.

He pulled back to scan her face. “Penelope, if I’m moving too fast, you let me know.”

“You’re not…I’m just…”

“What, Penelope? I don’t mind taking things slow.”

She avoided his eyes, a little bashful at how delighted she really was. “No, Johnny. I’ve just…I’ve never done this before, and I feel like I have a lot to learn. You might not believe this, but even though we were engaged, Edward and I never even kissed each other.” She met his eyes again. “The last time you and I kissed went by in a blur, and I still feel like I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Johnny’s eyes flickered at the mention of Edward’s name, but whatever he was thinking seemed to pass, and he drew her to him again.

“You’re doing perfect, Penelope. I love kissing you, and I think I’m going to do it again, if you don’t mind.”

They stood beneath the streetlamps for some time, a lovers’ embrace and interweaving breaths offering warmth in the autumn night air. When the two returned to their cars hand in hand, Penelope bent her gaze to the silhouette that had inspired their evening stroll.

It was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this fic, there were some songs I had in mind as inspiration for the music pieces in this story. And yes, I am partial to waltzes. 
> 
> Music links:
> 
> Johnny's Boogie Woogie: Swanee River Boogie Woogie performed by Luca Sestak: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ojt7e88g2I
> 
> Johnny's Blues Waltz: Slow Blues Piano performed by Andrew Campbell (though not really a waltz): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBoUO2UO6oo
> 
> Penelope's Russian Waltz: Waves of Amur performed by Obscura Piano Musica: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWgOxIznM4Y
> 
> Finally, I always imagined Penelope would be relatively old fashioned in her ways due to her upbringing (hence the rotary and lack of a cell phone). Given the setting of the movie was in the mid 2000s, I thought references to CDs were appropriate.


	2. MesmerEyes

Johnny Martin sat at the keyboard in his tiny studio in Peoria, plucking away at a tune he’d been working on for the past several weeks. It was Christmas Eve, and he was on a deadline. On his bench for the fifth time that day after a long morning of getting up, walking around, and sitting back down again, he finally put the finishing touches on his newest song. It had taken him a full week to just to decide on the key (D major), and another two to decide how many times to repeat the chorus (three) and whether there would be a bridge (there would). Though he’d decided on a more simple tune, it was proving to be the most challenging song he’d ever written.

His renewed life as a musician was like a healing spring to his broken spirit. He was rediscovering the joy of creativity and had purpose again. With him was the good fortune of landing a gig that allowed him to perform some of his own music, and audiences were demanding encores to works of art that he’d produced with his own hands. At the start, he had been cautious not to get his hopes up about The Matterhorn, but so far, he was not disappointed. Most regional musicians knew that the restaurant, if an artist could win such an engagement, opened a bounty of competitive doors.

Despite the prestige of the venue, like with most music jobs, Johnny did not earn an affluent salary, but with the gambling tables far from him—five hours to the nearest one, to be exact—he returned to the more miserly ways of his past to focus on career development. He felt as though his life was approaching some peak that was yet far, far away. Each day was a fresh, mounting hope.

And then, there was Penelope.

That enigmatic woman who glided into his life like a catalyst, wrenching him out of his dregs, propelling him to be a better man. He’d been seeing her since Halloween—almost two life-altering months. When he wasn’t working, he spent his time on her. Either on the phone, driving to see her, or taking her places she’d never been. His new favorite thing was seeing her face brighten up at some animal she’d never seen up close, or the wonder in her eyes at some old building that fascinated her, or hearing her chatter excitedly with a vendor she wanted to visit. With Penelope, it was like rediscovering the mundane, as though he was redoing life through the eyes of a child.

Since he worked weekends, he reserved select weeknights to visit her as he did not yet trust himself to move back to the city. God forbid, if he lost his job, he was terrified of getting sucked back to the poker tables.

And if he lost Penelope—well, he didn’t allow his mind to wander very far in that direction. He’d walked that path before. It was a woman who had been the root cause of his last spiral, and he was doing everything in his power not to repeat the mistakes of his sordid past. Even though it meant living in a different city than Penelope for a while, he gave himself some leeway as his whole objective was not to screw it up with the best thing that ever happened to him.

He glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the afternoon. He wasn’t due for rehearsal for a while, and Penelope might be home. He picked up his phone and dialed, his spirits lifting when she greeted him by name. ~~~~

“I was hoping it was you,” she told him. "You caught me at a good time."

God, he loved her voice. It was sultry in its own way, and he could listen to it all day long. He learned quickly when they started seeing each other that she was still adjusting to him in person. She was more playful, confident, and _sexy_ over the phone, just as she had been behind the mirror in the annex of her home. In person, the remnants of her nervousness had yet to wear off, and he still caught her looking at the mirror sometimes when they were out. Not in a vain way, but more like she was confirming that her old nose was still gone.

She’d been so vulnerable the day she first revealed her face to him. In the period they were separated, he thought her often. Her arresting, wide eyes, how delicate she appeared—as though she were apologizing for her own appearance. So different from when she hid behind the mirror. She’d taken a risk in exposing herself, and that day he wanted nothing more than to reassure her, to kiss her, in fact. He swore to himself he would seize the opportunity if he ever had the chance again.

He did not mind the nose. He was taken aback at first, sure, but as he got a good look at her in the moments afterward, he became engrossed with her eyes—those mesmerizing irises of hers. He actually thought they balanced out the nose, bright and full as they were. Some men were leg men. Some men were breast men. Some men went crazy for an apple bottom, a tiny waist, or a full figure.

Johnny was _emphatically_ an eye man.

Now that the nose was gone, he didn’t stand a chance. They were striking, so much so that he lived in fear of losing Penelope to another, more well-to-do, more deserving eye man.

“How’s my favorite brown-eyed girl?”

She laughed. He loved making her laugh.

“So. You're really working tonight, then?”

“Unfortunately. But I did sign up for this. I'm still new at this gig, and I really need to make this count."

“I know. You've been doing so well. I'm proud of you. I keep saying it, but I really want to see you play one of these days. The time just hasn’t lined up for me yet.”

“Don’t worry about it, Penelope. The day’ll come.”

The pitch in her voice rose. "I wish I could see you tonight." 

"Well, we'll see each other tomorrow, won't we? I need to give you your gift."

They talked for the remainder of the hour, and after they hung up, he felt rejuvenated to practice his new song until it was time for rehearsal.

_//_\\\\_

Like most guest musicians who played at The Matterhorn restaurant, Jackie and the Blues Sisters meshed well with Johnny. Rehearsal went as smoothly as it could, leaving them well-prepared for a jazzy Christmas Eve of blues and slow jams. The performers usually started playing around six, took breaks throughout the night, and wrapped up around ten thirty. On nights with a great crowd, they would play until midnight. Johnny loved nights like that—for both the overtime pay and the fun. With it being a holiday, it could go either way.

They started with some Christmas songs, and it was about mid-show when they began playing some Louisiana blues. Johnny was just about to hit one of the most difficult segments of the song when his heart leapt. There was Penelope, taking a leisurely stride towards him with a teasing simper on her lips.

The musical dissonance caused by his shock earned him a sharp look from the guitarist, but he quickly fell back into the melody. A waiter seated her near the front, and vaguely Johnny realized that she must have called far ahead for reservations. He wondered how she pulled it off; the restaurant was usually booked for months ahead of time, especially on holidays.

There was a break at about nine o’clock, but before he went to greet her, he had a quick word with the musicians for both an apology and an ask. After he explained to them about who had driven for hundreds of miles just to come see him, their faces relaxed, and they agreed to his request.

He ran to her with a hug, kiss, and a laugh. “Penelope, I can’t believe you came. Did you just get here?”

“Yes," she said, glancing to the side. "I wanted to surprise you.”

Johnny’s heart swelled. “How did you get such a good table?”

“My parents have connections. They wanted to come, but I told them I wanted to be here alone with you.”

Johnny straightened, examining Penelope with renewed esteem. Though she had moved out of her parents’ home months ago, in certain ways independence was still an adjustment for her. She still struggled with boundaries _,_ and though he had never been interested in pulling her away from her family, he always expressed encouragement for her little victories.

“I’m really glad you’re here. It’s a special night tonight.”

“Well, it _is_ Christmas Eve.”

He gave her one of his mischievous grins. “There's that, too.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. He so enjoyed teasing her.

Very soon, it was time for the band members to finish off the night with their last stretch of music. They played slower pieces, all of it written by the band and sung by Jackie. After the finale, Jackie tipped her head in Johnny’s direction, and he took a deep breath and nodded. He retrieved a nearby microphone, and holding Penelope’s gaze, began his speech.

“First, I just want to say that I don’t normally do this, but it's a special night. A woman I really care about has given me a great surprise by driving five hours on Christmas Eve just to see me play.”

A round of “awww” and some clapping peppered the crowd.

“Would all of you give this lovely woman a round of applause? Penelope, why don’t you give the audience a wave?”

Beet-red Penelope waved nervously amidst the applause, and Johnny drew the mic to his lips again, staring steadily at her.

“For the last few weeks, I’ve been working on a new tune. I was going to play it for you on Christmas, Penelope, but since you’re here now, I don’t want to miss this opportunity. I wrote you a song for Christmas.”

Penelope drew a hand to her lips, and his nerves started to kick in. 

“You motivate me, Penelope, in more ways than you realize. You make me better. And sometimes it’s easier to let the keys speak for me. Now, I haven’t written lyrics yet, but trust me, I’m doing you all a favor with that.”

Chuckling from the crowd.

“I call the song, ‘Got Me Real Good,’ because of what her eyes did to me after I saw her for the very first time.”

Penelope was starting to get emotional, so before Johnny lost all his courage, he set the mic down and turned to the keys.

It was not a complicated song. It was sweet and mellow, with a chorus that penetrated the bones, and it was completely inspired by her—the way she made him feel, laugh, and the breath of fresh air she bestowed on his life. He did not glance at her throughout the song, but when he struck the last few notes, he lifted his head at last to meet her eyes. She was wiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks. 

His own throat constricted in emotion, so he just nodded with a small smile. Penelope rose from her chair and made a beeline for him. He watched her movements without a word, swearing to himself that he could not allow himself to lose this girl.

Her eyes were red and glossy when she spoke to him. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He had never seen her cry before. She spoke little of her past and what her childhood was like, but then again, so did he. Their time revolved around the present, focusing on new experiences, small adventures, light travel—it was what she needed, and he was happy to oblige. With his song, he reached her at a level far beyond a smile or laugh, and he struggled for a response.

Penelope tumbled into him and wrapped her dainty arms around his waist. He was surprised by how tightly she held him, as though she feared he would float away from her. While he could relate to the feeling, Penelope had absolutely _nothing_ to worry about.

At the conclusion of each performance, restaurant patrons would always stop to chat with him, give him tips, or congratulate him on a great show. Every once in a while, he’d get a card from someone interested in siphoning him away from the restaurant. That day the customers left him alone, so that by the time Penelope released him, many of the tables had emptied out. When she finally pulled away, she bore the same vulnerability he’d seen when she first revealed her face. In that moment, something surged within him, and he felt deeply compelled to reassure her.

“Penelope, I want to ask you something.”

She said nothing, but a mixture of curiosity and fear flickered in her eyes.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a couple months now, and I don't know about you, but it's been amazing for me. I know you’re not used to seeing people this long, and I didn’t want to rush things given everything that happened to you this year. But I’ve been thinking about this really since I first saw you. I care about you a lot, Penelope. I want to know what you think about making things serious between us.”

All fear vanished from those stunning irises of hers. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t want to sound cheesy or anything, but how about becoming my girlfriend?”

She paused, expressionless, a little too long, and his breath caught. But soon a small smile blossomed into a broad grin. “Yes!”

Relief was an understatement for him. “Good,” he chuckled, giving her a tight hug. “Had me worried for a second there.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Johnny.”

Her words struck him, and he frowned. Before things progressed any further, he needed to get something off his chest.

“Penelope, I need to ask you something else. I know you haven’t had a lot of luck with this sort of thing in the past, but well, now…” he forced a chuckle. “You could be with any man you wanted, now that you’re not limited to bluebloods. Why in the world are you spending your time with some scrappy, two-bit musician with a gambling history?”

There was a shift in her eyes, and her smile faded. She furrowed her brows.

“Johnny, I’ve dated a lot of men. It may have been an unconventional style of dating, but believe it or not, there were some men I dated for weeks before I showed my face. Sometimes I’d come out into the annex early on purpose because they were so terrible. But there were some I really, really, liked. And I thought they liked me.” Her voice started to waver. “But they all ran. I went through that for seven years, Johnny. We even had to start installing shatterproof glass and get Jake sneakers, because apparently I was that ugly.”

He gave her shoulders a fierce squeeze. “You weren’t ugly, Penelope.”

“Just the same, they all ran.” Her eyes moistened once more. “You were the only man, after hundreds of heartbreaks, who liked me for me.”

He had no idea she had seen that many men. He wiped away the lone teardrop making its way down her face.

“They were idiots, Penelope.”

“No, Johnny, they were shallow. These weren’t dumb people. They all went to schools like Oxford, Yale, Harvard, Cambridge. They were the type of men who took pictures with orphans but couldn’t be bothered to spend time with them after a photo-opp. Someone like me, who had never spent time with other children, could only wish for basic experiences like that.”

Fresh understanding swept over him. “That’s why you’re a teacher.”

A slight nod. “It’s one of the reasons.”

Each time he learned something new about this incomparable woman, she became more mysterious. He wanted to experience so much more of her—her humor, her joy, her wonder. He wanted to know more about her life, her passions, her dreams.

He brushed her cheeks with tender kisses. When he was convinced her mind was fully focused on him and not the shallow idiots of her past, he made an offer.

“How about some dessert?”

“Ooh, do they have fruit tarts? They’re my new favorite thing!”

Even in the dim light, he could see her face aglow.

Johnny Martin took his new girlfriend by the hand and walked her over to their table. Profoundly grateful for what was in front of him, he was hopeful for the future.

“ _You’re_ my new favorite thing,” he said with a smirk.

Though his spirit was soaring, he could feel himself falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about the movie. When I did research for this fic, I learned that Christina Ricci was cast as Penelope partially because of her eyes. I think it might have been the director who said they actually did balance out the prosthetic nose. They were specifically looking for someone with that kind of face for the role. I thought that was really cool, because I absolutely love Christina Ricci and how she played the part.
> 
> Song inspiration for "Got Me Real Good" is "Darling, I Do" by Landon Pigg and Lucy Schwartz. It's a pretty perfect fit for the movie (and major bonus it is a waltz): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgVIYYg6qyc


End file.
